In Prophecy and War
by fernland
Summary: AU: Sybill Trelawney predicted Hermione's necessary role in the coming war against Voldemort when Hermione was 9 years old. So when her parents died under mysterious circumstances shortly after her prophecy, Dumbledore sends Hermione to France to live in the protection of the Delacour family. Fleurmione strikes again!...eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi there readers, the plot is still in process. I'm not the best at plot writing. I'm just on a Fleurmione bender and can't stop myself. lol. **

* * *

France 1990

He looked at the young girl and knew her future would be full of brilliance and of pain. Hermione Granger didn't know she would become a powerful witch with her life in constant, necessary danger. Albus Dumbledore held her burden in his soft eyes, as he did with Harry, her future friend.

"Hermione, there is cinnamon toast and milk at the table."

Her glare was stern."But I want my parents."

"They will always be with you." He taps her heart. "In here, Hermione."

"That's not good enough," she announced with crossed arms.

"That is true, my dear." Dumbledore could already see in her eyes what a strong force she will become. He took hold of her shoulder and steered her to the table where a quiet, blonde teen was sipping her tea.

"Fleur, I'd like to introduce you to Hermione. I believe your mother told you of the new arrangements."

"Yes, she has. Allo, Hermione."

"Hi." Hermione unhappy, but polite, took her seat.

Dumbledore smiled at the pair. "Now, Hermione, Fleur leaves for her school tomorrow. But I'm sure you'll grow acquainted during her holiday breaks. Right Fleur?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. I think we will."

Fleur had already been prepped for this conversation. She knew that Hermione would become a witch like her. After an important but vague conversation, she had agreed to switch schools when the time came for Hermione to go to Hogwarts. She knew she couldn't tell Hermione this and stared in frustrated wonder at the brown-haired girl. How important she must be if it was now her job to keep an eye on her! And what bad times must be coming…

* * *

Hogwarts 1991

Fleur understood that she once she was at Hogwarts Professor Dumbledore wanted Hermione's other friendships to naturally progress. It wasn't very hard being that Fleur was 3 years older. Logically, they would have different interests and friends. What confused her most was why she was needed to keep an eye on Hermione when Hogwarts was filled with powerful adult witches. When she confronted Dumbledore, as usual he was clever and vague.

"Fleur, I know your role is confusing. I will say this: Professor Trelawney made a prediction many years ago concerning a future conflict and the necessity of Hermione's role."

"Professor, pardon my brashness, but that part was explained to me when I was twelve. You still haven't explained my role in this."

"I see. Well, this is the nature of divination, Fleur. It's ambiguous and powerful. And we can only play with it so much. My action of moving Hermione to your home was not interference but an interpretation."

"Have you interpreted my role?"

"Not exactly."

A portrait of an old man giggled and Fleur could have sworn she saw Dumbledore's eyes twinkle with amusement. She narrowed her eyes and took a deep breath."Thank you professor. I will take me leave now." She turned quickly. Before she was out the door she heard him say,"Take heart, Fleur Delacour." Then he added quietly, "in all things."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I'm a short chapter kind of lady. Do forgive me. :)**

* * *

Even with Fleur's regard for the magical universe she lived in as a witch, divination felt very removed from her logic. This led her to take a class with the divination professor, if only to attempt to understand it more. After meeting Professor Trelawney, Fleur found it hard to believe that the rambling, socially strange woman created the prophecy that had propelled so much change in her life.

Luckily, time spent with Hermione over the last year endeared the girl to her. It was Fleur who had led Hermione through the enchanted streets of Diagon Alley. Fleur gladly watched Hermione's astonishment at the shops that held the most unbelievable things. Well, unbelievable to muggles. But Hermione Granger was a muggle no more after that day.

"This is a place that I know you will love, Hermione," Fleur said, smiling wide at the girl's awed expression.

"Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said to herself, already displaying with wide eyes her great reverence for the shop.

Being that it was Fleur who took Hermione by the hand through the Leaky Cauldron and into a new world of magic, it was then her who had to drag Hermione out of Flourish and Blotts. And that was only after a very trying conversation where Fleur promised repeatedly that Hogwarts would undoubtedly have a proper library with the ability to serve all of Hermione's studying needs.

That night they ate chocolate frogs and read on old wool rugs covered in books and parchment. Fleur watched Hermione practice writing notes with her quill and agreed to help acquaint her in the use of her new wand in the following days before their ride to Hogwarts.

Once they were at Hogwarts, it wasn't hard to see Hermione's budding brilliance and the deep seriousness beneath her need for knowing. Increasingly as she saw Hermione undertaking advanced spells and lessons, Fleur remembered that Hermione's parents died because a prophecy was made, that this witch was going to partake in a great conflict. In those moments, the uncomfortable fact that danger was coming to Hermione would strike a deep fear in her. She decided if Hermione's ever-growing, bold accomplishments were needed, she wanted to be ready to help protect Hermione against what was coming.

Fleur wondered if Dumbledore could tell that there had been a shift in her consciousness regarding her duty. His knowing looks somehow became more knowing. Dumbledore was just as mysterious to Fleur Delacour as the very root of magic itself. He was also just as frustrating as Divination class.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for reading. This wouldn't happen without you!**

* * *

Hogwarts 1993

Hermione became a part of Fleur. The space the brown-eyed girl occupied grew as one's bones do. We don't always notice our bones changing, but we become taller all the same. Hermione grew inside of Fleur on quiet nights spent reading, and with each easy smile that came while they endlessly quizzed and challenged each other.

This was why when Fleur saw Hermione petrified, it hurt very literally. Madame Pomfrey knew a panic when she saw it and offered a potion to the girl. It calmed the beating of her heart but not the painful tension inside of it. Fleur sat by Hermione's bed and made more promises. She would try harder. She would learn more. She would use every personal resource she had to become a better witch.

* * *

=0=

"You date a lot, Fleur."

Fleur knew that tone. She put her quill down and saw Hermione's eyes deep in text and her ink-stained hand moving with great speed. They had been working in the library for many hours and as usual, there would be many more to come.

"I am still a feminist. Feminists can date, Hermione."

"You date _a lot_."

Hermione didn't know the veela had been dating older boys to learn advanced magic first hand. She would let the boys drool and show her spells. Then Fleur would leave them similarly as one would step over a small puddle—quickly and without further thought.

"If it makes you feel better, Hermione, they are more like study dates. Yesterday I learned how to cast an Oppugno attack."

Hermione's head snapped up in attention with raised, interested eyebrows. "Oppugno?"

"Yes." Fleur smiled as she watched Hermione eyes go from interested to jealous to scheming in a matter of seconds. "You don't have to ask Hermione. Of course I'll teach you. I've been thinking that it would be good if you and I started a dueling practice." She moved in close and whispered, "Can you meet during dinner? You can always have it again." Fleur winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She still didn't know how Fleur figured out she had a time-turner, but it didn't really matter. She trusted Fleur, enough to even tell her about the situation with Sirius Black.

And so it began that 3 evenings a week, Fleur and Hermione practiced all matter of spells: offensive, defensive, and complicated yet helpful charms gleaned from Fleur's "study-dates" or advanced text books.

It was exhilarating for both girls because it was learning, because it felt necessary with the darkness that seemed to be growing in their lives. Hermione's time at Hogwart's had already shown Fleur the need for constant ambition in her work. Hermione had already faced so much and Fleur knew it was just the beginning.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the great advice. I needed it and it is a good challenge for me. As a new writer (and an impatient aries) I've never really thought about pacing very much, but I know it's important, so I'm going to attempt more fluidity and slow down a bit. PMs of more specific feedback are always welcome! And as always, thank you for being there. :)**

* * *

Hogwarts 1994

Hermione had been staring into her butterbeer a little too long.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

"Fleur, I did something I never thought I'd do. It felt horrible and amazing at the same time!"

Fleur smiled at her friend's now gleeful expression. "And what was that?"

"I dropped a class. Professor Trelawney is a complete fraud, so I quit!"

Fleur felt an anxiety at her words. Hermione had no idea that Fleur was sitting in this very tavern because Dumbledore acted on one of Sybill Trelawney's prophecies. Not to mention that it was also the reason Hermione had lost her parents.

Hermione grabbed her hand. "Fleur, are you disappointed in me?"

"Of course not. I was just taken aback. Congratulations!" With her free hand, Fleur raised her beer and Hermione followed.

They clanked mugs and took deep swigs. Fleur was wiping her mouth when she noticed Hermione studying her.

"What?" Fleur asked with a playfully skeptical face.

"You are very beautiful, Fleur Delacour."

Hermione had the same look on her face as when she made potions—no detail could escape from her inspection. Fleur laughed. "You, my friend, may be drunk for the first time."

Hermione smiled in agreement, but the probing expression didn't leave her eyes. "Fleur, can we do something fun this summer?"

"We'll have a lot of studying to do, but we can always do that on a beach, can't we?" Fleur smiled and took a swig.

"Yes, I believe we can," Hermione agreed, a pleased grin on her face.

* * *

=0=

As always, Fleur's life as Hermione's friend felt normal until it rapidly didn't. It was a cycle, but that didn't make it any less shocking every time Hermione faced danger. Fleur regularly checked the charmed galleon Hermione perfected earlier in the year for this very reason. This time she was surprised to see that Hermione had already been waiting twenty minutes for her in their empty practice space. Finding the witch looking very roughed up was alarming. Hermione ran to Fleur and immediately hugged her tight.

"Fleur, so much has happened."

Hermione didn't spare any details in her telling of Wormtail's story and of her escape from Professor Lupin. By the end, Fleur was beside herself, but kept that from her friend.

When Hermione hugged her goodbye, Fleur almost lost her composure. Afterwards, walking through the hall, she didn't realize her breathing was heavy. Her chest rose and collapsed very quickly as Fleur recalled the details of Hermione's story.. She stopped at Dumbledore's gargoyle. "Lemon drop! Jelly beans! Liqourice! Fait chier!"

"I don't believe that last one is a candy, Fleur."

She turned to face the Headmaster. "I have to talk to you."

He smiled. "Follow me." He leaned towards the gargoyle. "Peppermint toad," he said in a light tone.

Dumbledore led Fleur to a chair and took his own behind a very large desk. "Fleur, I can see that you're distraught. What's the matter?"

"Harry Potter is the matter! Hermione's life is always at risk because of him."

Dumbledore looked intently at the upset girl and produced a cup of tea with a flick of his hand. He gestured to Fleur to drink. "How do you know that Harry isn't in danger because of Hermione? Can you imagine Harry trying half of his misadventures without Hermione by his side?"

Her eyes widened. She had no words in her shaky state.

"Fleur, I'm the wizard that felt forced to let a child know of a coming war. It is because of me that you are in a panic, and I am sorry for that. Just know that things are happening as they must."

"That's not good enough, Headmaster," Fleur chided.

"I heard those same words from Hermione when I tried to comfort her that first day at your home." He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes before returning the lenses to his face. "These are times that will never be safe enough—times that youth have to be more than they should ever have to be. Please forgive me for my role in that, Fleur."

Seeing the distress in his face made the future, inevitable dangers become even larger in her mind. Thankfully, compassion and hope also ran deep in his expression, tempering some of her fear.

"Do you think things will work out?" Fleur asked, trying to hold her posture under the weight of dark thoughts.

"I think it might. We have to keep looking forward," He said warmly.

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Fleur rose and turned to walk out.

"Fleur?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"I do know French."

He was smiling that smile that made him insufferable and wonderful all at once. "My apologizes, Sir."

He nodded, and shooed her off with his hand.

* * *

=0=

Summer break came much to Fleur's relief. Summers felt safer, especially in France on a beach far from Hogwarts. How one school could attract so many threats was a constant frustration to her.

"You're not studying much,Fleur."

The veela was staring at light hitting the waves. "Hermione, the sea sparkles here. There is no grey."

"You always insult Scotland in the most beautiful way," Hermione said, her sigh lazy like their summer.

Fleur turned to see Hermione's smile. "And you have a nice way of saying my fussiness can also be poetic." Fleur put down her unopened book. "I'd like to live by water someday."

"Like in a cottage?"

"Yes, next to sand dunes and sea grass. And when I'm old I will make mobiles with washed up sea glass and sell them to muggles." Fleur felt Hermione's hand and only realized then that she was full of sorrow.

"Why does that make you sad, Fleur?"

"I don't know."

But she did know. Moments like this she cursed Dumbledore for taking away a part of her innocence. Of course, that feeling always got swept away when she looked into Hermione's eyes and remembered her duty. Duty was more important than naïvety, especially when it came to Hermione Granger.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for the constructive encouragement and for reading! **

* * *

The Dark Mark had returned to Britain. Fleur couldn't stop pacing after hearing the news. She wouldn't be surprised if it was Voldemort's followers who would begin the cascade of events Professor Trelawney predicted.

Fleur knew Hermione would eventually send a response to her owl, but she was tired of waiting. When she heard scratching at the window, she sighed in relief. It wasn't what she expected though.

_Fleur Delacour,_

_Your school will be represented in the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. After looking at your outstanding academic accomplishments, I would like you to attempt participation in the Tournament alongside other __Beauxbatons students._

_Regards,_

_Madame Maxime_

Fleur stared at the letter. She never thought of herself as an exchange student. She never thought of herself as someone who would compete in such an esteemed tournament. So much of her ambition had been tethered to Hermione's safety.

As dangerous as the tournament seemed, it also sounded like something that could be refreshingly all her own. She folded the letter and began to think grand thoughts. Hermione didn't completely leave her mind, but Fleur felt a new independence grow inside her. She wanted to be chosen. She wanted to do something remarkable.

Under those novel feelings, guilty questions rose in her. Would the tournament be a distraction from her work, putting Hermione at risk? Was she strong enough to succeed in both responsibilities? Fleur wanted to be strong enough. Just as she did when she made those silent, desperate promises while Hermione was petrified. Tightly holding Madame Maxime's letter, Fleur ultimately decided to become whatever she had to be to keep her promises to Hermione—it had become second nature to do so since the witch arrived in her life. But she would also let herself grow outside of Hermione—she would enter the Triwizard Tournament.

* * *

=0=

It was strange sitting with Beauxbatons students that could have been Fleur's best friends if she hadn't left. Even stranger was wearing their school uniform. She glanced at Hermione, but the witch had been pointedly avoiding her looks since she sat down. It wasn't surprising. Fleur hadn't told Hermione that she put her name in the goblet until that evening. The witch had pulled Fleur aside by the arm with a scathing look. But Hermione didn't have time to reprimand her, as Madame Maxine was calling for her students' attention. Fleur had rushed to her seat, leaving behind a very flummoxed Hermione.

Fleur held her breath as she watched the scorched paper fly among sparks and blue flame.

"The Beauxbatons champion is our exchange student Fleur Delacour!"

Fleur smiled wide and raised herself up to join Victor Krum. She felt so proud. She also felt hopeful that she could calm Hermione's fears about the Tournament. There were new precautions in place after all.

After Cedric Diggory placed himself with the champions, Fleur dared looking at Hermione again, but her brown eyes were following something else. Fleur trailed her line of sight and saw the goblet's flames rising. A fourth piece of paper floated in front of Dumbledore. When Fleur heard Harry Potter's name, she knew something was wrong, and that her dear friend's night just got worse.

* * *

=0=

The empty practice space felt emptier not knowing if Hermione was going to show up. Fleur knew the witch would check her coin, but since Harry's name was called earlier that night, Harry would need Hermione's support. Fleur sat in the darkness, trying to enjoy the moonlight filtering in.

"Lumos."

She turned to see Hermione under the new light shining above them. She looked upset. She looked older.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

"Am I okay? Did you just ask that? Really?!"

Fleur rose to approach her.

"No. Stop right there."

The veela froze. "Hermio—"

"First, you entered your name without telling me, without a thought to how potentially barbaric this tournament is. Then, to add lemon in the wounds, someone is out to get Harry!"

Fleur saw Hermione's eyes begin to swell with coming tears. She approached her slowly. Once she reached the witch, she softly grabbed her shoulder before enclosing Hermione in a hug.

"I will watch over Harry. I will, Hermione," Fleur whispered, adding one more promise to her many.

"And who will watch over you?" Hermione responded, her voice still thick with worry.

"I'm a strong, French feminist! I don't need anyone to watch over me!" Fleur exclaimed, her smile resting against Hermione's brown hair.

Fleur could feel a laugh leave her friend's chest and knew they were right again—at least for the moment.

Hermione hugged Fleur tighter. "Fleur, you've bested me with my own political principles!"

"Our own principles, Hermione. We are strong. Remember that," Fleur countered in a gentle voice.


	6. Chapter 6

Fleur barely got to see Hermione after her name was drawn from the Goblet. The scarce times Fleur had made available to meet her, Hermione couldn't find a way to meet her or vice versa. Fleur's attempts to keep her promises to Hermione couldn't compete with her training and Harry's needs. Though when Madame Maxime told Fleur about the dragons in the First Task, she found a way to sneak off to the library. Hermione was where she expected her.

"Allo Hermione. Allo Harry," Fleur said, quietly greeting the two Gryffindor students.

Harry looked up, a little dazed at the sight of Fleur. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your studies. Can I speak to you, Hermione?"

"I'll be right back, Harry. Wipe the drool off your chin." The witch rose up and followed Fleur to a secluded aisle.

"I almost forgot about your effect on boys, Fleur. We haven't been in the library for a while."

"Don't remind me," the veela replied.

Boys would often approach them while they studied. Fleur would flick her wand without even looking up, pushing them backwards with her silent spell casting. So many boys had banged their heads that the librarian put extra padding under the rugs where Hermione and her often worked. The one time Fleur felt bad was when it was Ron flying backwards. Strangely, Hermione didn't seem to mind—much to the surprise and anger of the Weasley boy.

Fleur moved close to Hermione's ear. "Tell Harry the first task is Dragons."

"I know. I was going to tell you tonight. Haven't you checked your coin?"

Ashamed that she hadn't, Fleur's face fell. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I usually do. I've just—"

"Don't worry about it. I do still want to meet even though you already know about the dragons." Hermione's face turned serious. "This is your last year, Fleur. With all of my stress around Harry and the tournament, I feel like I'm missing out. How can I already feel like that when it's barely even begun?"

"I know. It's all too much to take in." Fleur sighed. "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I can't meet tonight. Madame Maxime has me trapped the whole evening to prepare for tomorrow."

"Fleur, I hate this tournament! I never see you. Ron and Harry aren't speaking because Ron actually thinks Harry put his name in the Goblet. What an idiot! On top all of that, you and Harry could get seriously injured or killed!"

"Hermione, there are new precautions in place," Fleur said, trying to calm the witch's escalating anger.

"Precautions? Precautions were made to make Hogwarts safe and still there was a basilisk living under it for Merlin's sake!"

As regret coursed through Fleur, her eyes began to burn—the recollection of what happened to Hermione fresh in her mind. "I'm sorry, Hermione. You have every reason to worry." And then the tears began to fall. "I knew it was selfish of me to enter the tournament, but I just wanted to do something special."

Hermione took Fleur's hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's okay."

Fleur nodded, wiping her face.

Watching Fleur, Hermione's brown eyes became pensive. "Why would it be 'selfish' of you to enter the tournament? Don't you mean reckless?"

Fleur nervously cleared her throat. "Yes, reckless is what I meant."

Hermione hugged Fleur. "Good luck tomorrow. Be safe."

Fleur squeezed the girl back. "And wish the same for Harry from me."

"I will, but only if he successfully wiped the drool from his face," Hermione replied.

Fleur could feel her friend's smile in their hug. It helped her mood. It was possible that everything would turn out okay— that they will get through the tournament and then they will get through the war. She wouldn't let herself imagine any other outcome.

* * *

=0=

After so many years with her head stuck in books, the First Task was a thrill for Fleur. Facing a dragon held real danger— something she actually needed to get used to facing, now that the forces behind the Dark Mark have returned.

Fleur stared at her golden egg while waiting for her meeting with Hermione. Madame Maxime had loosened up on her. The headmistress was under the assumption that Fleur needed to be out of the Beauxbatons carriage to find a date for the Yule Ball. Fleur wanted to bask in a bit of freedom so she didn't tell Madame Maxime that she had already found a date.

Walking to the practice space, Fleur was happy. Her chest felt light—a rare feeling as of late. When she got there, Hermione had her own pleasant mood to share. Relaxed in the pale winter light and smiling at Fleur, Hermione shared her news first.

"I have a date to the Yule Ball! It's a secret from Ron and Harry. It's Victor Krum!"

Fleur raised her eyebrows. "Victor Krum?"

"Well…Yes, it's true that we don't have much in common. But school dances aren't about commonality—they are about dancing and fun and being on an actual date!"

"That is a logical point you make, Hermione. But I will be attending the Yule Ball for dancing, fun, _and _commonality. It must be my sage-old wisdom at play," Fleur said with a wink.

"Who are you taking to the Ball?"

"Anaïs Bellerose. She attends Beauxbatons and she is brilliant, Hermione! I'm surprised that the Goblet even chose me over her," Fleur said, a pleased, excited look on her face.

It was now Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows. They went up, then down, and finally got stuck at furrowed. "I—We…We never really talked about your dating preferences."

"My preference is not to date fools. I find that most boys are, Hermione," Fleur responded, matter-of-fact.

"Yes, it's true," Hermione said, her brows still furrowed, with a new addition of pursed lips to match.

"Is something wrong?" Fleur asked, looking at Hermione's tense features.

"I don't know, Fleur. It's hard to articulate—I feel… I feel far away from you. I feel far away from everything right now for some reason."

"It sounds like you feel shocked," Fleur said, a little concerned.

"Shocked might be the word." Hermione was now staring out the window.

Fleur took Hermione's hand and pulled her closer to the window. "These are big times with lots of changes, Hermione."

"Big indeed," Hermione replied.

When Fleur started to release Hermione's hand, the other witch tightened her grasp on the veela. Fleur squeezed back to show Hermione that she was there while they both stared at the wintery day in silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Fleur, putting the finishing touches on Hermione's hair, smiled at her friend. "You are gorgeous. That Victor Krum better know what a lucky boy he is."

Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror. "I've always wanted Ron to see how lucky _he_ would be. Now I'm just tired of him."

"He is a fool, Hermione, to not see how wonderful you are."

"Ron sees how wonderful I am at doing his homework," Hermione replied, frustration showing in her voice.

"Well, tonight there is no homework! I declare that there will only be fun and dancing," Fleur proclaimed, an exaggerated seriousness in her tone.

"I want us to have a dance too, Fleur."

"Why of course, Princess Hermione" Fleur said, bowing.

Disapproving of Fleur's comment, Hermione's hands found her hips with lightening speed. "Are you making fun of my dress?"

Fleur laughed at the witch's annoyed stance. "I picked out your dress. Now don't move! I really need to finish your hair."

"Fine," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

* * *

=0=

While waiting for Anaïs, Fleur decided that the decorations for the Yule Ball were absolutely enchanting. She was very much looking forward to spending the evening with her date. She had never attended a dance. Of course dances were held at Hogwarts, but Fleur's duty to Hermione always took precedence over most social activities. Studying and practicing magic with Hermione constituted most of her social life since turning fourteen and living at Hogwarts.

Tonight, Fleur would not be practical. Instead she would dance and be joyous. She heard her name and looked up. Anaïs was dressed in a sleek, silver dress. Fleur loved how the witch's bobbed haircut exposed her neck and jaw. Many a times the Beauxbatons student caught Fleur staring at the line where the witch's black hair met her cheek. It was one of those times that Anaïs took the liberty of asking Fleur to the Yule Ball.

"Good evening, Anaïs. You are truly stunning," Fleur said, excitement growing at the sight of her.

"As are you," she replied, kissing both of Fleur's cheeks.

Seconds later, Professor McGonagall began herding the Champions and their dates. Fleur spotted Hermione and gave her an encouraging smile. The witch responded in kind, and mouthed "Wow" at the first sight of Anaïs, causing Fleur to laugh.

When the first dance began, Fleur was surprisingly a bit nervous. Luckily, Anaïs was not and she able to bring out Fleur's natural graces before long. As every song passed, Fleur began letting herself become more and more swept away. Every so often the touch of Anaïs on her skin, coupled with the music rolling over Fleur, would send shivers through the veela.

Fleur let go of toil and the future as she bounced to the music. Anaïs was once again grazing her cheek along Fleur's when the veela felt a strong pulling on her arm. She turned and opened her eyes to see Hermione also moving in rhythm, her fingers quickly lacing themselves into Fleur's hand. There was no thought—only movement. Fleur turned fully towards the witch and continued dancing. The feel of dancing and letting go held its own magic—a new level of euphoria entered the veela as she moved with her beaming friend. Surely this feeling of elation was what friendship was supposed to feel like. It felt so natural to have Hermione moving closer, to feel the brown-eyed girl's heated cheek along her neck.

Then the song ended, accompanied by a pulling away and the stern, confused face of Victor Krum. Fleur turned in search for Anaïs as the next song started. The girl was already walking towards Fleur, ready for the next dance. Fleur again let the music take her, though Anaïs had other plans as she stole Fleur away towards the garden. They took flight. Fleur felt free again, caring not of the future. There had never been a night that felt like this.

It would surprise many witches and wizards to find that Fleur Delacour hadn't been kissed until the Yule Ball. "Find a love," her mother would say. "Don't let the darkness come too early." That evening in the garden, the only darkness was the shadows of leaves on Anaïs and Fleur's bodies. The veela basked in the sensual words whispered in her ear. Hearing her first language felt like home—she was finally home in her own body, Anaïs against her skin and lips. All the same, there was also an ache inside her. Fleur didn't ignore it, but she did refuse to question where it came from. Something was missing and she didn't want to care.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm glad you're still here! Thank you! :)**

* * *

Fleur felt changed—somehow knowing herself more after being with Anaïs. Fleur concluded that she hadn't been living in her skin, at least not in a carnal way, before that night. As she entered the great hall for breakfast, she wondered why that was. Then she looked into Hermione's brown eyes—they had sought Fleur's own immediately.

That moment Fleur realized she may not have fully lived in her body, but she had always lived in her heart. It was Hermione that carved a place inside her slowly over the years—and now being locked by her gaze was unsettling.

Fleur recalled their closeness while dancing together, the feeling of Hermione pressing against her body in rhythm— at the time it felt so normal, but now Fleur could feel a new, unmistakable tension coming from the witch. It gave the veela an instantaneous and suffocating panic. She grabbed an apple and rushed out of the hall—not letting herself look back at Hermione.

Outside, the air was biting as she raced to the Beauxbatons carriage. She didn't get far though.

"Fleur!" Hermione's voice rang out like a beacon. If it were a whisper, the veela still would have heard it. Fleur stopped. She felt her heart continue to race, almost as if it believed that the faster it went, the sooner Fleur could somehow still escape the other witch. Though when Fleur turned towards Hermione's rosy cheeks and sad, confused eyes, the veela felt immediately regretful. "Hermione," she said quietly. Her smile not hiding the rest of her strained face.

"What's wrong, Fleur?" There was worry in Hermione's voice. She found Fleur's hand and squeezed it.

Fleur felt completely disarmed by the unexpected tension emanating in the space between them. No words could leave her. How could she explain that her whole teenage life had been devoted to Hermione's safety—that now staring into her eyes made her life feel even less her own than before.

The witch looked almost frustrated at Fleur's silence. "Fleur, just let me worry about you for a moment, please. You look absolutely distraught. What is going on? You looked fine until," Hermione paused, her expression became nervous, "…until you saw me."

What Hermione said was true, but Fleur didn't want to say why. She also didn't want to lie. Instead, she compromised on two truths.

"There's a terrible darkness growing, Hermione. The tournament feels like a dangerous distraction for all of us, especially Harry—and when something is dangerous for Harry, it is almost always as dangerous for you too —I must have had a panic of sorts when I saw you."

Fleur felt Hermione's fingers lace inside her own, like they had last night while they danced. The veela unsuccessfully tried to ignore the sensation.

"I see," Hermione replied, pulling Fleur closer. "Between you worrying about me and me worrying about Harry _and_ you—combined that's a lot of worry!"

"It is a lot. I'm sorry that I ran off like that." Fleur, still a bit stunned, decided to introduce some small talk. "How did your date with Victor go?"

Hermione's face immediately became solemn. "I think not as successful as your date."

Fleur's curiosity perked."What happened?"

"Nothing really happened. That was the problem. So, I've decided to change my views on commonality and dating. That way, I'll at least want something to happen next time."

"I'm glad you see my point. It makes a big difference to have things in common when considering a date." A memory of Anaïs passed before Fleur's eyes.

It didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. "I can tell by the look on your face, Fleur, that you had _a lot_ in common with your date."

It was Hermione's half-teasing tone that made Fleur realize she was blushing. "It's true, Hermione. It was a night like no other."

Hermione nodded. Her eyes and thoughts looked far away.

"I think I'm ready for a proper breakfast now," Fleur said, looking at her apple.

Hermione's eyes snapped back to the veela. "Good. That is not nearly enough food!"

They walked back in companionable silence, but Fleur was very confused. She wished she could spend every second at Hermione's side. At the same time, she felt completely stifled by the idea—as if her individuality would further collapse under their new, unspoken tension. It was an uncanny and uncomfortable feeling.

She was reluctant to seek advice from Dumbledore—his answers were usually more puzzling than her questions, but there was no one else she could confide in. Fleur looked at her hand entwined in Hermione's as they walked and decided that the brilliant, insufferable Headmaster would have to do.

* * *

=0=

Dumbledore smiled at Fleur, his arm outstretched towards a chair. She sat and watched him take his seat.

"What brings you to my office, Fleur?" He asked.

"Something has happened and I'm not sure how to deal with it."

"Yes, go on," He urged. Dumbledore leaned back and produced tea from the ether, as he likes to do. He took a cup and gestured to Fleur to follow suit.

Fleur politely took the tea. "There is a new…." Fleur silently stared at her tea.

"A new what exactly?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Fleur took a breath. "A new romantic energy between Hermione and me. I am not sure how to deal with it. I want it, but I feel suffocated at the same time. Not to mention, I'm not sure if it will be a distraction from protecting Hermione."

"It is not your job to protect Hermione," Dumbledore replied, casually.

"My whole life was turned upside down to 'keep an eye on Hermione'! How was I not to interpret that as protecting her, especially with a war coming?" Fleur's heart begin to speed up. She was outraged.

"You were meant to be in Hermione's life. She could not have become who she is now without your presence. How I reflected that to you was not fair, especially telling you about the coming conflict—but it was just too important—the wizarding world needed you here with Hermione."

Tears began to burn her eyes. "I feel like I've given my whole life to this prophecy and I now it's made me give my heart too."

Dumbledore leaned in towards the distraught veela. "Fleur, hear me when I say that love doesn't take your heart away—it makes your heart bigger."

"It doesn't feel like that—It feels like Hermione has everything of mine and there is nothing left for me."

"This is your last year at Hogwarts. Try to enjoy it while you're here. Enjoy the challenges of the Triwizard Tournament. And trust that soon there will space enough to find your self again. You are more resilient than you think—and I have a feeling you'll soon see that you've gained so much more than you think you've lost, my dear."

Fleur knew it was coming—the riddle talk. It was subtle, but there. Dumbledore meant his words as a silver lining to all the grey in Fleur's life. She wondered if he knew that the grey of this prophecy had always felt too in-between _and _too dark to live in all these years— even if it was somehow surrounded by a silver lining. By the earnest look in his eyes, she gathered that he did understand. But it didn't make it easier.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is short and angsty. On a positive note, Happy Spring! **

* * *

It was Hermione's subtle pining for Ron Weasley that taught Fleur how to want quietly from a distance. Trusting Hermione to keep her pattern of longing from afar, Fleur knew all she had to do was _not do anything_. The veela had seen Hermione's muggle photographs that never moved—people in stasis like Hermione's yearnings and now like Fleur's too.

They were forced to meet later and later into the night because of the tournament. But both witches didn't want to give it up—Fleur, because Dumbledore made her realize that soon enough she will be gone from Hogwarts. For Hermione, Fleur could only guess the witch was driven by her constant unmet want—agitating and stirring under the surface as it also did for her.

Fleur's tired eyes would meet Hermione's inquisitive, passionate stares. At any moment Fleur could touch the girl's cheek if she wanted. She knew Hermione's soft skin would gladly press into her palm. Their lips could meet—nervousness turning to eagerness, leading finally to the expansion felt in moments of love. But Fleur never reached to touch her cheeks. Nor did she kiss Hermione's ever-waiting lips.

On these nights when Hermione sought Fleur's eyes and arms for closeness, the veela felt keenly her confused emotions around the witch—a profound love mixed with a paralyzing fear of losing her identity. Ever since Fleur awakened into her skin at the Yule Ball, she ached for the brown-eyed witch. Uncomfortably parallel to that ache was Fleur's desperate want to know who she was outside of Hermione. This wish became a deeper need than her longing for love. It was what created the gulf between them—the separation Hermione must have sensed whenever they met.

The chasm was there after the Second Task when Hermione comforted Fleur with understanding and tight hugs—the young witch tried to bridge the gap the between them with kind words and touch. So late into the night they sat together, hands tenderly entwined. Eventually the dark around them turned to dawn. As the sunrise reached their faces, they stared at each other in the gold-pink hue of morning—helpless to stop themselves.

"Fleur," Hermione finally said in a sighing whisper, her eyes passing over the veela's lips.

Fleur almost gave in to the sound of her name and the sight of Hermione looking at her with such exposed want. But the fear of losing herself leaped in her chest, forcing her to break the spell that had locked their eyes and hands on each other for far too long. Fluer moved her eyes to the window. She didn't want to see Hermione's disappointment at her words.

"I should get back before Madame Maxime notices."

"Okay," Hermione replied, discontent clear in her voice.

Sometimes when Fleur was alone, she would picture Hermione as she was in the golden light of sunrise. No matter what, the sun would always come. But Fleur knew their nights together wouldn't. Soon all the years of hard work would have to be enough to fight against Voldemort's twisted darkness. She hoped and prayed she would be at Hermione's side when the time came.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I really wanted to make it to at least 1,000 words tonight, but alas my gf is pouring some wine. Thank you again for the kindness. Simply put, it just feels good! :)**

* * *

When Fleur awoke after being stunned during the Third Task, shame immediately flooded her. Her body felt heavy, almost drugged. She turned her head and saw Madam Pomfrey. The nurse was whispering to a colleague in a desperate tone. Watching them, something inside Fleur clicked—she knew the shift happened.

Fleur's logical mind never fully accepted the strange mysticism of prophecy. But at that moment, lying in the hospital wing, her whole body felt the sensory awareness of a new evil. Something had begun—the phase she had been dreading. Panic and silent tears came. Fleur wondered where her dearest friend was. She wondered why she hadn't grabbed her chance of happiness with Hermione before their golden era ended.

Her fears around identity and independence felt childish now that everyone will be forced into a new identity—they will each become someone fighting a war. Fleur cried for Hermione and Harry. She didn't notice Madam Pomfrey coming to her side. She felt a vial at her lips and then the empty calm of sleep taking over.

The next time Fleur woke it was it morning. She knew the light pressure holding her hand came from Hermione. She looked at the witch sleepily.

"Tell me, Hermione. How bad is it?"

"We have to whisper. Harry is still sleeping," Hermione said, gesturing toward the sleeping boy. "Voldemort is back. The Triwizard Cup was a portkey that took Harry and Cedric to a cemetery where he was brought back." Hermione inhaled deeply. "Cedric is dead, Fleur."

Images of Cedric came to Fleur. She pulled herself up to embrace the witch. She didn't care about what the closeness might imply. Fleur just needed to hold on to what was most important to her.

"All will be different now," she said, her face against Hermione's brown hair.

"I think I'm going to spend the summer at Grimmauld Place with the Order," Hermione said, pressing closer to the veela. "Fleur, where will you go?"

Fleur pulled back to look her. "I will join the Order." Her mind was racing. Fleur broke eye contact to stare at the window. Light was peeking through the curtains, making the fabric bright. "But I also want something—and if I don't try to have it now, then I might not get the chance…because who knows what will happen."

"What do you want?" Hermione asked, her brown eyes hopeful and probing.

Fleur knew that look. She saw it the night they stayed together till dawn. "Hermione, I'm going to move to the coast. Will you come with me—at least to visit?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, a fresh grin on her face.

With this decision made, Fleur finally felt a distinctiveness that was all her own—even with her heart seemingly fused to Hermione. When Fleur was not fighting, she would be by the water with the wind and salt in her clothes. She looked at Hermione and imagined them by the sea. It was strange to be smiling—to have a sweet moment when there were already tolls from Voldemort's rise. She wondered if joyfulness would continue to feel different now that he was back.

* * *

Summer 1995

Fleur felt relieved as she walked through her door. Shell Cottage held the comfort of the simple—the normal beauty of a warm blanket on a couch. Old wool rugs like the ones she laid on as a child greeted her with the perfect familiarity she needed after trailing a Death Eater for three weeks. Next Dumbledore wanted her to start work at Gringotts Bank for reconnaissance. It will be strange to have such a routine position.

Fleur looked up at a sound, drawing her wand only to see Crookshanks coming down the stairs.

"Hermione!" Fleur yelled happily.

"I found my room," Hermione said as she came into view.

And what a refreshing view it was to see the brown-eyed witch. "How did you know it was yours?"

"The walls are entirely covered in books and there's fresh parchment laid out on a perfectly designed desk." Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Fleur."

The veela's heart felt at ease. This is how it worked now—there is darkness and Death Eaters, but there is also Hermione and a cottage by the sea.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I am very grateful that you are reading this and for all your support! Things are going to get pretty dicey for these two amazing witches now that Voldemort is back. But for now let us enjoy some pleasant moments between them. :)**

* * *

Hermione walked down the stairs to greet Fleur. When they hugged, Fleur inhaled deeply, taking Hermione in. It was a reflex—the part of Fleur's self that did what she wanted. This side of her lived in her senses and only wanted to rest in the physical and in beauty. The part of Fleur that wanted to forever lay in the scent of Hermione was the same part that needed the texture of sand under her feet and the delicate purple of sea lavender. Fleur's time at Shell Cottage was simple and incredibly sensory. This is what made it peaceful—it was what she was missing while she worried, and endlessly trained all those years at Hogwarts.

"How long can you stay, Hermione?" Fleur asked, hesitant to leave the witch's arms. She settled on holding her hand as she led her to the couch.

"Just a few days. I had to get escorted by Tonks, and that was only after I promised that we would cast Fidelius on your cottage….So, we have to or she will be livid." Hermione bit her lip slightly. She looked embarrassed.

Fleur smiled at her, tenderness for the brown-eyed witch coming to the surface. "You will be the Secret Keeper and a part of my home will always be with you."

"You make it sound way better than Tonks did," Hermione said, laughing.

"I'm French." Fleur replied, adding her signature wink for effect.

Hermione rolled her eyes and settled into the couch. "Your place is lovely."

"Thank you. I love it here. The woman I bought it from is rather unpleasant, but I feel grateful even still. This my most favorite place in the world now."

"You love it more than France?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed in surprise.

"Not exactly,but I feel full here. It's helped me change."

Hermione's face looked very curious. "How?"

"I will always love where I am from, but the quiet of Shell Cottage helped me recognize myself."

"That makes sense. You seem happy."

"Well, I'm especially so because you are here."

Hermione looked ecstatic at her words. "I'm so happy to see you too, Fleur."

An excited restlessness came over Fleur as they looked at each other. Being next to Hermione again after so many long, difficult weeks was nothing short of amazing. She could feel the long repressed want for the witch rising inside of her. It must have shown on the veela's face because Hermione's lips parted absently and her cheeks were blushing below her intense brown eyes.

"Would you like to go to the shore with me, Hermione?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, her smile excited.

* * *

=0=

A blanket curled under Fleur's arm, they left the cottage. While walking in the soft sand, Fleur felt the unexpected sensation of nervousness. In school she could have dated any boy—boys never made her nervous. She unabashedly had a romantic encounter with the most beautiful of all the visiting Beauxbatons students—Fleur was not a nervous person.

The difference now was of all the things she's ever wanted, she wanted Hermione's love most of all—and she didn't have a reason to hide it anymore. It was a startling realization for Fleur, thus producing new apprehension in the veela.

Fleur arranged the blanket on the sand. They both sat and looked at the water.

"This is very different from the Mediterranean sea of my childhood. It took getting used to—wearing sweaters by the water, being chilled in even in summer." Fleur said, playing with the sand.

"You could use a warming spell."

"This may sound strange, but I appreciate this place too much to change it." Fleur hoped Hermione would understand.

"Using magic constantly, it's easy to forget that we don't always need to change the things we love."

"Exactly. This beach is perfect—even on the coldest, stormiest of nights," Fleur said, happiness swelling in her. She laid down to watch the clouds quietly move.

Hermione followed. Fleur could feel every place where their bodies lightly touched—the witch's arm against her's, the fabric of Hermione's jeans. Fleur continued to face the clouds, but all of her attention was on Hermione while time passed in amplified slowness.

When the light of late afternoon became gold, Fleur remembered the long night they spent together. She remembered all of her promises. Most vividly of all, Fleur remembered that while Voldemort exists, time could not be promised to anyone—she would not waste any more of it.

Moved by the bewildering sincerity of first love, Fleur turned towards Hermione. She could see Hermione's chest rising and falling. The quickening ebb and flow of Hermione's body made Fleur bold— she reached out to touch the brown-eyed witch.

"Is this okay?" She asked, her hand trembling lightly on Hermione's burning cheek.

Hermione didn't answer with words—she pressed her cheek into Fleur's hand, just as Fleur had always wanted. The younger witch closed her eyes. When they opened again, Fleur caught a glimpse of Hermione's brave expression before she rushed at the veela's lips. Hermione pushed and pulled in efforts to get closer. All of Fleur's awareness was pulled into their heated kisses and the feel of Hermione pressing closer and closer against her body.

And when Hermione finally released Fleur's now swollen lips, a wily smile appeared under her narrowing, beautiful brown eyes.

Fleur brought her mouth to the witch's ear. "What is that face for?"

Hermione pulled away, but kept her hands on Fleur. "You're going to pay for not asking me to the Yule Ball, Fleur Delacour."

"Am I? Is that because I was a better dancer than Victor Krum?"

"Yes, that dance ruined me!"

"Because you couldn't keep your mind off me afterwards? I hope it didn't affect your school marks, Hermione Granger."

Hermione huffed, but then nuzzled into the veela. Joking about the aching tension they both went through made Fleur's memories less sad. Lying with Hermione in her arms, Fleur pleaded to the mysterious force that created prophecy to allow her to hold Hermione always.


	12. Chapter 12

Fleur's mouth moved along the freckles on Hermione's arm, kissing each one. The witch's skin and the sound of her breathing—they mixed with the crashing waves, weaving a powerful spell over Fleur.

"When did you first want me?" Fleur asked, her mouth above the bend of the witch's forearm.

"I—Fleur," Hermione's words stopped when the veela moved to unbutton the top of her shirt.

Fleur wanted the collarbone she had stared at for months. She placed slow kisses along it, savoring its lines and shadows. "Remember how we danced, Hermione? How your mouth and cheek touched my skin?"

The brown-eyed witch's breath quickened.

"It was euphoric how your body moved. Your breath was fast like it is now." Fleur kept her voice low as she grazed Hermione's skin with her words.

"Fleur—" Hermione was under a spell too—her body rising and flexing under Fleur's warm breath and touch.

"Is that when you wanted me, Hermione?" Fleur asked again, this time with a finger lightly circling the soft beginnings of the witch's breasts.

"Yes, Fleur. Yes, I wanted you." Uneven breaths accompanied Hermione words. She sat up, her eyes wide. "Gods! Is this a veela thing?"

Fleur retracted her hand. "Excuse me?"

"For you be so incredibly sexy that all of my senses sort-circuit and there isn't enough oxygen?"

Fleur moved away from Hermione, her blue eyes showing hurt and alarm at Hermione's words. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you—to fluster you. "

"That's not what I meant. It was just so intense. I—"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I don't know what came over me. I had waited—I wanted you for so long. I should have shown more self-control." Fleur's voice was threaded with shame.

"Fleur, please!" Hermione pulled at Fleur's hand. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just got a bit overwhelmed. It was different when I kissed you first." Hermione paused. "—When I was in control," she added sheepishly.

Fleur raised a playful eyebrow.

Hermione laughed. "I just felt so turned-on and so vulnerable. Do you understand, Fleur?"

Hermione's affection and honesty stirred a deep gratitude inside of Fleur. "I do understand."

"I sensed this coming. I've waited too, Fleur. Just now that the time is finally here, it feels so big."

"It _is_ big. You and I." Fleur wanted, needed to finally be honest with Hermione. She smiled and gestured to the sky. "This was told in the stars—'we' were told in the stars…or whatever cosmic power Trelawney's divination uses." Fleur's smile faded when she saw Hermione's confusion. Broken from her romantic reverie, Fleur realized that it was wrong how she brought it the prophecy. She cursed her flippant words—she could see Hermione's brain working, and it scared her.

"What does that mean? What are you saying, Fleur?" Hermione pulled her knees against her chest.

"Don't get upset, Hermione. I'm sorry I brought it up like this."

"I don't want an apology—just tell me what you meant," Hermione said sharply.

"Professor Trelawney made a prophecy about you. That is why Dumbledore moved you to my house—why I was transferred to Hogwarts...and I think it's why we fell in love." Fleur could see that Hermione was getting more dismayed. The veela had felt so close, so hopeful next to Hermione just a few minutes earlier. She knew now that her misguided intention to bring them together was now pulling them apart—the other witch was now standing. Fleur hopelessly watched Hermione begin to pace in her growing distress.

"Fleur, what in the hell is going on? I came to France after my parents died. Was that in the prophecy? Could they have been saved?"

The veela had forgotten about that part. She felt sorrow at Hermione's growing realization. She stood up to approach Hermione. "We were both young when Dumbledore brought you. I still don't know what the prophecy said—only that we were meant to know each other and that you are important."

"Important to what, Fleur?" Hermione asked with narrowed eyes. They felt like daggers to Fleur.

"Important for the war—I'm beginning to think important to Harry most of all."

Hermione put her hands on her face. "All of those years together—all of it was for that?"

"Yes…No—only in the beginning! I knew you were important. I wanted us to become strong—and then there was nothing but you. And that's what I want—all I want, Hermione, is you."

"Out of some twisted turn of fate—as told by Trelawney! Because of some sort of Stockholm Syndrome you fell in love with me?"

"I don't know what that is. Hermione, please," Fleur pleaded, her breaths becoming loud in her panic.

"It means the prophecy held you hostage to me and then you grew attached," Hermione answered, her face growing wet with tears.

"You are a part of me, Hermione! It doesn't matter why it happened."

"The 'why' matters to me, Fleur. It always matters! You know me, so you know that it does. Everything I study—everything I ever work for is to learn 'why' and 'how'. It bloody matters!"

Fleur inched closer to the witch. "You know this is real—you must, Hermione!"

"That's not all that matters, Fleur! What about loyalty and honesty?"

"I've never been anything but loyal to you. Everything I've ever done was to make your future safer!" It was now Fleur's eyes streaming tears.

"That isn't the type of loyalty I want! You were loyal to that mad woman's prophecy! For all we know it could be utter trash!"

"Hermione, please forgive me for not telling you. Please!"

The witch didn't respond. They stood in the growing darkness of dusk. Fleur never felt so scared to lose something as she did then.

"Even if you don't want…"Fleur paused, inhaling shakily. "Even if you don't want me anymore—I need you to forgive me."

"I'm going to Grimmauld Place," Hermione stated, her voice dull and impersonal.

The distance in Hermione's tone was heartbreaking to Fleur. In her last plea, the veela quietly breathed the witch's name.

But Hermione did not hear the desperate love in Fleur's voice—she had already apparated away. Fleur crumpled to her knees. She punched at the sand, wild noises coming out of her as she repeatedly hit at the ground.

For the first time in her life, Fleur Delacour hated magic.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the emo! It just flows out of me. I hope you still stick around. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello! Thank you for reading! :)**

* * *

Unbeknownst to herself, Fleur spent months falling in love with Hermione. This quiet love slept behind Fleur's logic and fear, behind duty and friendship. Then a winter night came when the brightest witch of her age cast a spell—not with her wand, but with her cheek and hands and with the pressure of her body. The night of the Yule Ball Hermione overtook Fleur's senses—stirring the veela's slumbering love.

Looking back, Fleur could see now that it was foolish to leave this newly roused love laying in wake for as long as she did. Its tension was coiled so tight that when it finally sprung—when at last Fleur's heart completely opened, the prophecy rose up alongside it, callously revealed in the throes of new romance.

Fleur briefly tasted the life she wanted in Hermione's lips and now that future was at risk. She wondered if she could accept losing her if at least the prophecy still played out as it was foretold. Dumbledore made it clear that Hermione would not be who she was without her. Whatever providence that rested in Trelawney's words was now up against Hermione's will.

Sitting on the blanket she had shared with Hermione just moments before, Fleur felt dark, fearful thoughts begin to constrict her chest and stomach. Curled in a ball, she tried to breathe. But how could she, knowing that Hermione felt wronged—and rightfully so.

* * *

=0=

One week not hearing from Hermione felt like an eternity. Fleur was anxious entering Grimmauld Place. She did however allow a sliver of hope to live in her—she knew Hermione didn't want to speak to her, but Fleur's hope was that she could change her mind once they saw each other.

Remus greeted her kindly and led her to the kitchen to take tea before the Order meeting. Once Fleur saw that Hermione was not there among the other members, she gracefully declined and asked for the witch's whereabouts.

Fleur's fear of rejection weighed heavy on her chest as she approached the library. She opened the door and unexpectedly, just for a moment, Fleur's world felt right. Her dearest friend was sitting in a large, cozy chair reading. As always, Hermione was completely engrossed in text. The scene before Fleur looked so ordinary—it was what she had witnessed for years. Hermione hadn't even looked up yet—a testament to her investment in whatever text she was reading. The aching familiarity of watching the younger witch study moved Fleur to tears.

Suddenly without even moving her eyes up, Hermione tensed her body. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Deep breaths started to come from the witch's lips, but still no words. Fleur longed for Hermione to look at her, to speak to her.

"Hermione." Fleur's voice was soft and full of obvious sorrow.

"I can't, Fleur….Please go," Hermione replied sternly.

Fleur could hear Hermione trying hold in her breaths. She knew that the witch must also be holding back tears. If only she would look at her—Fleur wanted to wait for that moment, but she could not deny Hermione's request. She walked out and closed the door. Tears still falling down her face, Fleur pressed her palm and forehead against the thin barrier that now separated her from Hermione.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning she saw blue eyes and a long grey beard. In her haze of near-failing composure, she let Dumbledore lead her to a room. She knew what was coming next.

* * *

_=0=_

_"A witch born to those who heal without magic…Helped by the son of Percival, she will be lifted by the veela's wish to become what the Cursed One needs. Steadied by devotion, she will save the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord."_

Dumbledore's voice was rich, almost beautiful in its inflection. But his words were not soothing. This was not poetry—these words spoke of the cruelest wizard ever known. Unnamed, the mysterious threat in this prophecy haunted Fleur for years. There was scarce comfort in its final revelation.

Fleur fidgeted with her fingers and stared at the dingy, peeling wallpaper of Grimmauld Place. "Does Hermione know?"

"Yes," He replied, worry entering his eyes.

"Harry. He is—cursed?"

"Yes, in a way."

"Is she going to tell him?"

"No, she knows she can not tell Harry yet. She will finally feel the same burden that you carried for too many years. Fleur, I feel regret and sorrow for you both." Dumbledore covered Fleur's hand with his own.

"She won't talk to me. She won't look at me."

"Hermione is upset. She won't always be."

"What time do I have to wait?...How can I wait?" Fleur felt her now familiar desperation rising again. She wanted to be stoic, but she simply couldn't be—not when it came to Hermione.

"You must see time as a friend, Fleur. I know it's hard, but time is what we have to work with—So, we must let it do its job." He smiled. "Easier said, then done. Isn't it?"

That was an understatement, but Fleur smiled back. For all the burdens Harry, Hermione, and herself carried, she imagined that Dumbledore must be equally troubled—having to face war against Voldemort for the second time.


	14. Chapter 14

12 Grimmauld Place, September 1995

Sirius walked up to the table of Order members. The mood before his arrival had been thoughtful, but not somber. Fleur watched his approaching disheveled figure. She didn't think him stable at the moment and she was right—eyes full of venom, he slammed a dirty hand on the table. Half drunk tea cups and pints of ale fell to their sides. Arthur, father of seven and used to many spills, reacted quick enough to stop the flow of various liquids.

Sirius glared at them all. "An attempt was made on Hermione's life!"

Shock and quiet shame ran through Fleur as she watched Remus approach Sirius. He rested an arm on the furious man's back and one over his heaving chest.

"Sit down, old friend," Remus said. His words were gentle, but his jaw clenched. There was new tension awake in everyone. Begrudgingly, Sirius took a seat.

"Where—Hogsmeade? You were near Hogwarts, Sirius?" Molly asked.

Sirius didn't miss the subtle accusation. "My comings and goings are not the point."

"I know you worry, Molly, but he's right," Remus broke in. "Tell us what happened, Sirius?"

Fleur listened to Sirius's account of two death eaters attacking Hermione during the student's first visit to Hogsmeade. Fleur froze in the realization that her own fears had come true—Voldemort's goal of disrupting Trelawney's prophecies would become a new priority. This thought sent waves of fear and self-loathing coursing through her body. Her lack of contact with Hermione weighed heavier than ever. She felt a hand on her shoulder and the beginnings of a whisper in her ear.

"It's okay, Fleur—she's safe now," Tonks said softly. The witch's friendly reassurance made Fleur realize that similar to Sirius a moment ago, her chest was now heaving. Tears had also begun dropping from her eyes. Nodding in thanks, Fleur wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Then a look of determination appeared on the veela's face. She stood up to the wide eyes of her companions.

"I must be assigned to Hogwarts. Someone else besides known Order members needs to be there—someone that Umbridge will accept as an ally!"

"Yes!" Sirius agreed as Fleur knew he would—if he had his way, he'd be living as Padfoot in the Griffyndor common room.

"But how would we do it smoothly with the Ministry's presence at Hogwarts?" Arthur asked.

"It is simple—The French Ministry will be so impressed by the appointment of a High Inquisitor at Hogwarts that they will request the return of their exchange student to Hogwarts not only for an independent graduate project, but to gain intimate knowledge of the ministry's new approach to curriculum." Fleur paused to smile at Sirius. "In the future, to Umbridge's delight, those changes will be implemented by France's own institutions."

"How can the egos of the Ministry and Umbridge say no!" Sirius exclaimed, a smirk rising with his words. "Well done, Fleur."

She nodded and hoped that she was right—she needed to be near Hermione again.

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**A/N: Fleur's coming back to Hogwarts! I just couldn't keep these witches separated. Sorry this was short and that it's been a while since my last update. I started procrastination writing because I was avoiding facing this plot—a weak move I know, but plots are hard. Thanks so much for sticking with this story!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you for your kindness and for reading! This came out kind of fast. ****I'm sure I have some editing to do... **

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Fleur survived her incredibly long meeting with Umbridge. Indulging this sociopath's every bizarre notion was a feat of endurance beyond trailing death eaters for weeks. Umbridge was possibly the most irksome woman Fleur has ever encountered. Evil was one thing, but to Fleur Umbridge was worse than the most of crass of death eaters. It was something in her wicked essence,her calm cruelty. Fleur was forced to suppress many shivers of discomfort and images of cursing the vile woman so she could never utter another word of nonsense.

Afterwards, sitting in the empty classroom, she watched a September sun slowly lower in the sky and allowed herself take a deep, relaxing breath. Her cheeks heated by the sun's warmth, she closed her eyes and imagined Hermione as she always had—in the golden light of sunrise after their one night together. It calmed her nerves, reminding Fleur why she will continue to spend many horrible hours with Umbridge.

Fleur began to rub her fingers across the charmed galleon. She wasn't sure that Hermione would even still have it. She knew Dumbledore told Hermione of her arrival, but she didn't know how it went. Fleur hoped that Hermione would show up for she couldn't risk written communication. Remorse began to bubble inside her chest. In her estrangement from Hermione, Fleur learned that the pain of regret,however old, feels as fresh as the day of its creation.

She sat until it was time to go to dinner. Facing Hermione across the Great Hall was far from what Fleur wanted, but it was not in her power to change it. Rising, she gathered her courage and turned to leave the room. Startling her, Fleur saw framed by the door the person she most wanted and was most scared of seeing. Fleur didn't know how long Hermione had stood at the precipice of the room that had become so special to them both. She seemed a beautiful mirage—so close and so impossible.

"Hermione, thank you for meeting me." Fleur walked closer until the other witch lifted her palm in the air for her to stop. Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled. For a long moment Fleur watched Hermione's paused features and her outstretched hand. When her commanding brown eyes opened again, Hermione's determination filled the space between them. Her force of spirit, the vast power from the very depths of her Gryffindor heart, barreled into Fleur. So it is when one's heart is so immersed with another's—Fleur felt Hermione's power as a one would feel a spell's magic.

"I needed space to figure out what was real and what wasn't," Hermione finally said, shaking her head. "I still need it."

Fleur heard her words, but she could also feel Hermione's love and want colliding with her own. "Is that what your heart wants? Hermione, I can feel your—"

"No! You do not get to say that," Hermione ordered.

"Yes—okay. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry for everything." Fleur's voice cracked at the end. She was trying to resist the tears that began to burn her eyes as she looked at Hermione.

"Fleur, it hurts so bad—that damn prophecy. So many years….and I don't know what is going to happen with Harry." Hermione stopped, her eyes were now wet like Fleur's.

The veela dared not interject at Hermione's pause. She just stood there ready to listen. When Hermione continued, there was a thin veil of calm in her expression.

"We are on the same side. We must fight him and Umbridge together."

"Yes," Fleur agreed. "Let me earn your trust again. Please, you are so dear to me, Hermione."

"Just give me time," Hermione replied, a new exhaustion in her tone.

"I will," Fleur promised. Time: Fleur felt she was losing it. Time was not her friend. It moved too slowly—her love couldn't wait. It moved too fast—she continually fretted over the moments lost not having Hermione by her side. She watched as Hermione dug into her robes and pulled something out. Fleur's heart dropped when she saw it was a coin. The potential of Hermione refusing their only mode of communication sent fear through her.

"We've formed a study group of sorts to learn defense against the dark arts—we call it Dumbledore's Army." Hermione looked both prideful and shy. "You should join." She threw the coin to Fleur, who caught it with joy.

"Thank you," Fleur said, smiling. Her face did not hide her gratitude and adoration for Hermione as she rolled the coin in between her fingers. The veela felt a surge of happiness at the witch agreeing to be in the same room with her. It was great progress from where they were moments before. When Fleur looked up from her new coin, Hermione features had become gentle and a quiet nostalgia passed between the witches.

"Okay, I have to go," Hermione stated awkwardly.

"Goodbye, Hermione." Fleur was reluctant to let the witch go, but she had no choice but to leave things as they were.

After Hermione left, Fleur looked about the empty room. Hermione was gone, but in such a different way than the painful days since Shell Cottage. A fresh hope took root in Fleur's heart.


End file.
